


All Roads Lead To The Witch's Brew

by venetum



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Clarke owns a coffee shop, Enchantments, F/M, Halloween, Idiots in Love, Modern AU, Potions, Witch AU, author!Bellamy, bellamy has writer's block, but it's a witchy coffee shop (obviously), coffee shop AU, halloween fic, murphy's a good friend, spells, they're in a coven, witch!Clarke, witch!Madi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27304249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venetum/pseuds/venetum
Summary: Bellamy Blake has a problem: he's got a book to submit in less than two weeks, less than half of it written, and absolutely no inspiration to get it done. When his desperation reaches its peak, he finds himself compelled to visit 'The Witch's Brew,' a coffee shop run by local witch, Clarke Griffin, who Murphy swears cured his writer's block with one of her signature "enchanted" drinks.What happens when Bellamy Blake, an absolute skeptic of the mystic arts, realizes that witches are, in fact, very real? Or, better yet, that he's falling hopelessly in love with one?
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 93
Collections: bellarkescord halloween gift exchange





	All Roads Lead To The Witch's Brew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allysketches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allysketches/gifts).



> This fic for [ Ally](https://allysketches.tumblr.com/) for the 2020 Bellarke Discord Halloween Gift Exchange! I hope you like it! ❤
> 
> Thank you to Krissy for seamlessly hosting such an awesome, fun event!

Bellamy Blake finds out his favorite café has shut down at the most inopportune time possible—a mere two weeks before the deadline for the first draft of his latest novel, one that he's had a particularly hard time putting to paper.

He hadn't been worried about meeting the deadline until this very moment—he's always worked well under pressure. His debut novel was written in under a month, under the influence of an unhealthy amount of caffeine at  _ Joe's _ , a quaint little café tucked into the corner of 1st and Main Street. Working on his novels there has become a bit of a tradition ever since, although he hasn't been there as often as he would've liked in the past couple of months.

His plan to meet the deadline was simple: he would practically live at the coffee shop as he had during his undergrad years, breathing, eating, and sleeping nothing but the draft—and Joe's world-class cappuccinos, of course—until it was complete and ready to be sent to his editor.

Suffice to say, Bellamy freaks out when he learns that it doesn't exist anymore.

"What do you mean, Joe left?" He demands, running a hand through his hair as the panic starts to build within him. Bellamy is a creature of habit, and he already knows this does  _ not _ bode well for him.

"I mean, he left." Murphy, his best friend and renowned food critic repeats slowly. "He sold the shop a couple of weeks ago, packed up his stuff, and moved to Italy. I figured you knew." He shrugs, unperturbed by Bellamy's reaction—his friend's always had a flair for the dramatics.

"He moved to Italy," Bellamy repeats, collapsing into a chair in Murphy's office as his knees begin to weaken.

"Is this about your book? I thought you were set to have that done weeks ago," Murphy leans forward in his seat, fingers lacing together and a look of concern etched on his face.

"I was... until a couple of weeks ago. I woke up one morning and everything I'd written for the book so far just didn't make sense anymore. I know I need to rework the plot, but I just don't have the words." Bellamy sighs, "I'm fucked."

There's a pause as Murphy mulls over the problem at hand, Bellamy's mind rushing through every catastrophe that might occur as the result of his writer's block and procrastination in the meantime. Finally, after what feels like a millennium, Murphy speaks up.

"I think I know exactly what you need to solve your problem." Murphy pulls a drawer in his desk open, rifling through what looks like a stack of business cards. He lets out a triumphant "Aha!" when he finds the one he's looking for, pulling out a black card from the pile. He hands it to Bellamy.

Bellamy raises his eyebrows, examining the business card that has just been handed to him.

_ The Witch's Brew _ , the card reads.  _ Potions, Teas & More. _

"The Witch's Brew?" He reads aloud, wrinkling his nose. "Come on, man, you know the last thing I want to do is visit a Halloween theme coffee shop."

Bellamy's distaste for Halloween had always been a subject of contention amongst his friends, none of them able to understand why he harbored such a potent hatred for the rather innocuous holiday.

"Your weird, slightly concerning issues with Halloween aside, this place is so much more than just a coffee shop. A friend of Emori's runs it, and she convinced me to visit the other day when I was struggling to get my last article out. I swear whatever the chick put in my drink was magic—I got my entire article written and edited in the span of like, an hour. I've never had an article finished faster in my life." Murphy stresses, eyes wide.

His testimonial doesn't do much in the way of convincing Bellamy to try the place out—Murphy had only recently started dating Emori, a girl he met while scouting new, undiscovered places to review in his weekly column, and Bellamy's about eighty percent sure Emori's in some kind of cult.

He suppresses the snarky response that threatens to escape him, knowing how strongly Murphy already felt about Emori. So what if she was semi-deranged and believed herself to be part of a coven of actual witches? It's not like that was  _ true _ . But she made Murphy happy and, after his tumultuous past, Bellamy knew he deserved that above all else.

He shakes his head, returning the card to Murphy.

"I think I'm going to go about this the old-fashioned way first. But I'll let you know if I end up needing the address."

* * *

Three days pass without even a faint glimmer of inspiration, and Bellamy only gets more desperate. He resigns himself to his fate on the morning of day four, staring at the blank pages of his draft as his cursor blinks back at him mockingly. He knows, logically, that his editor Kane might be unhappy but ultimately alright with granting him an extension on the deadline—not that Bellamy will be able to bring himself to ask for one. His need to please authority figures tends to overpower any common sense he might possess. Besides, not even an extension is going to help him with the terrible case of writer's block he's suffering from.

Sighing in frustration, he slips on a jacket and one of the beanies O has taken to knitting during her pregnancy, deciding a walk may be just what he needs for inspiration to strike. He shoves his laptop into his bag at the last minute, a niggling feeling in the back of his mind assuring him that today is the day he will break through his block.

It's a beautiful Fall day in Arkadia, with sunshine filtering through the clouds which does little to abate the chill in the air. Bellamy adores this season, longing all year for the days when his city looks like it has been painted with fire, leaves of varying shades of red and gold flaming on trees, and blanketing the sidewalk.

He breathes in the crisp, autumnal air, a sudden sense of determination washing over him. He isn't quite sure how he knows where to go, but his instincts seem to kick in, his feet unwittingly carrying him to the very coffee shop Murphy had recommended to him three days prior.

A strange sense of rightness washes over him as he stops outside the entrance to the establishment.

The café has a sign that reads  _ The Witch's Brew _ in loopy calligraphy, what Bellamy assumes is meant to be a witch's broomstick hanging directly below the writing and the  _ T  _ in _ The _ punctuated by pointy, black witch's hat. Carved jack-o'-lanterns line the pathway leading up to the door, light, and shadows dancing around them as their flames sway gently in the mid-morning breeze. The large, bay windows on either side of the door are lined with various trinkets and bottles, a couple of which Bellamy could swear emit a soft glow.

He chuckles slightly, marveling at how far the store leans into its Halloween aesthetic, still somewhat puzzled as to how he ended up here. He pushes the door to the café open, wrinkling his nose at the (hopefully) fake cobweb that hangs from the top of the frame.

The interior of the coffee shop is warm and inviting, all warm wood tones and a mismatch of cozy-looking chairs surrounding equally unique tables. He notices a couple of booths on the far side of the shop and one or two strategically placed fake cauldrons bubbling and smoking slightly.

A blonde woman stands behind the counter, having what sounds like a heated conversation over the phone.

"No, I didn't finish the Eye of Newt, Josie! Did you check behind the snake oil and the Essence of Fear?"

Bellamy raises an eyebrow, unsure whether those were actual themed confections sold by the store or simply a way for the woman to stay in-character. He walks towards the counter, his gaze drifting towards the wall behind the woman as he waits for her to get off the phone. An impressive array of bottles and jars fill out the shelves on the wall, labeled once again in black and white. Bellamy's sure that, should he look closely, he'll find that they're labeled ridiculous things like "Unicorn Tears" or "Bat Drool." A chalkboard hangs next to the shelves, listing various mundane-looking coffee and tea drinks.

He hears the woman end her conversation and shifts his gaze back to her, taken aback by the intensity of her eyes. They're a crystalline blue, the kind that makes him want to stare into them forever, and brimming with secrets he can't help but want to learn. His gaze drifts to the mole that sits just above her upper lip, overtaken by the sudden urge to lean forward and press his lips to her own. A sense of urgency starts to build up at the base of his spine, urging him to move forward and interact with her.

The woman clears her throat, shaking Bellamy out of his reverie with a start. He tears his gaze away from her lips, heat rushing to his face at the idea of being caught staring.

"Welcome to the Witch's Brew! Bellamy, right?"

"Uh... yes" he nods. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"

"Not exactly," she smiles, shaking her head. "But I had a feeling you'd be dropping by sometime soon."

Bellamy still not quite buying her whole 'witch' act—Emori probably mentioned he was coming. He plays along nonetheless, nodding in assent.

"I'm not really sure how I ended up here," he admits to her, stepping closer to the counter. "It just sort of felt... right."

"That tends to happen more than you'd expect" Clarke nods solemnly. "All roads lead to the Witch's Brew, after all. I'm Clarke, by the way. Clarke Griffin," she introduces herself.

"Bellamy Blake, but I guess you already knew that."

A woman clears her throat behind Bellamy, making him acutely aware that he was holding up the line.

"Shit, sorry," Clarke apologizes. "We should probably get started. Hmm... what shall we get you today..."

She taps the end of her pen against her bottom lip in contemplation, her gaze trained on him as though she's trying to stare into his soul.

"Interesting..." she murmurs, leaving Bellamy feeling vaguely uncomfortable as she begins scribbling something in her little notebook. 

"Alright," she says when she's finally finished writing. "I think I have exactly what you need. I'll bring it over to you in a few."

She rings up his order on the register, displaying the price for him to see.

"Right, thanks." He says, tapping his card against the reader to pay.

He leaves the counter to take a seat at one of the more secluded booths in the corner of the semi-full shop, curiosity now thoroughly peaked. He's still feeling sort of unsettled by the entire experience, although he can't help but feel as though he was meant to come here today—as though he was somehow meant to meet Clarke this entire time. He felt drawn to her in a way he'd never really felt with anyone before.

Clarke arrives at the booth a couple of minutes later, placing a steaming, cauldron-shaped mug in front of Bellamy. She slips into a seat across from him.

"Drink up," she tells him. "This should be just what you need to get over that pesky writer's block."

"How did you—never mind." Bellamy's eyes widen slightly at her casual reference to his problem before he remembers that she was friends with Emori.

"Another feeling," she explains.

"So, what's in this?"

"Well, you seem like a coffee person, so I went with a honey lavender latte with a little extra something to get those creative juices flowing."

"Let me guess—unicorn tears?" He teases.

"Not quite," she laughs. "A simple inspiration enchantment, actually. Unicorn tears are surprisingly hard to stock."

"Of course, silly me," he nods solemnly.

He pulls the mug closer to him, amused by its shape, and sniffs at it. It smells wonderful, the floral aroma of the lavender complimenting the dark, roasted coffee scent. He brings the cup up to his lips and takes a sip, resisting the urge to moan when the smooth liquid hits his taste buds, reinvigorating energy coursing through his system almost instantaneously.

"Holy shit," he says once he's swallowed his first sip. "That's amazing."

Clarke grins triumphantly and Bellamy's struck once more by just how gorgeous she is.

"Well, my job here's done. Finish all of it and you should have no problem getting that draft turned in by the end of next week." She slides out of the booth. "I'll be around if you need anything."

Bellamy doesn't even bother trying to ponder how she knows when his deadline is or what he's working on—he isn't convinced that she's a witch, per se, but he can definitely acknowledge that there's something else going on here. He almost wants to tell her not to leave, not quite ready yet to stop talking to her, but the latte's already kicked in and he's itching to get his words down on paper.

"Will do, thanks Clarke," he smiles at her gratefully.

He pulls his laptop out of his messenger bag, sipping on his drink as he waits for it to boot up. He jumps slightly as he feels something warm and vaguely furry brush up against his thigh. It's a kitten, he realizes, staring down at the tiny ball of black fur that was staring up at him rather inquisitively. He takes a moment to appreciate another box of the witch stereotype Clarke fits perfectly, before addressing it.

"Hey buddy," he murmurs to it, bringing it up to sit on the table next to his arm. "What do you say we get some work done?"

The cat purrs as though in agreement, turning its focus to his computer screen and nuzzling into his forearm. Honestly, considering everything that had transpired this morning, Bellamy wouldn't be surprised at all if the cat was actually reading his work along with him.

To say Clarke's drink just helped him break through his writer's block would be a gross understatement. Not only did it help him past his block, but it seemed to lower all of the inhibitions and insecurities Bellamy tended to feel when he sat down to write, allowing him to follow his gut and rewrite the entirety of the plot for the second half of his novel.

Bellamy stays at  _ The Witch's Brew _ well into the evening, latte long finished, typing away at his laptop with the kitten nestled into his side, and he'd never felt more at peace.

Clarke comes over to him towards the end of the day when the last customer has left the shop.

"Hey," she says, eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of her cat laying casually across Bellamy's arm. "I see you've made a new friend. I was wondering where Madi had gone off to."

Bellamy nods, petting the sleeping kitten gently.

"She's been keeping me company all day."

"Interesting," Clarke hums, "she isn't usually very comfortable with strangers."

Bellamy shrugs, hitting save and pushing the lid of his laptop shut.

"Well, maybe I'm just special."

Clarke lets out a slightly incredulous laugh, eyes glinting as she responds, "yeah, maybe you are."

Their gazes lock, calm, blue waters meeting the warm, welcoming Earthy brown of Bellamy's eyes and he swears the world comes to a complete standstill.

Madi meows loudly, bringing the pair back to reality.

"So, how's the draft coming along?"

"Really well, actually. I should have it done well before my deadline. Thanks again, by the way."

Bellamy can't be certain, but he's pretty sure Clarke looks a little disappointed at his response.

"Oh, that's great! I guess you won't be needing another of my lattes, then, huh?"

"You guys sell regular coffee, right? Because I'll definitely be wanting another one of those honey lavender lattes," Bellamy assures her. "Spell not included, of course."

"We do. Not everyone comes in here looking for an enchantment, after all."

"So, just most people, then?" Bellamy guesses.

"Something like that."

Bellamy gently removes his arm from under Madi, giving her one last scratch between her ears before sliding out of the booth.

"I'll be back tomorrow, then. I still have a bunch of writing to get through, after all."

"Perfect. I'll see you then, Bellamy," she smiles up at him shyly.

And so, Bellamy goes back the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, every day until he finishes his draft and emails it to Kane. And then, he keeps going back anyway. He spends most of his day writing or making his way through the ever-growing pile of books waiting to be read on his nightstand. Madi joins him more often than not, jumping up onto his table every afternoon like clockwork.

He drinks Clarke's sinfully delicious honey lavender lattes, trying to work up the courage to ask her out and fully resigning himself to the idea that he was, indeed, falling for a witch.

She takes more breaks than she did that first day, allowing herself to sit down and talk to him now that the urgency of his deadline has passed. They talk, and he finds himself falling for her even more. He learns about her father, who instilled in her the importance of art and creativity before he died, and her mother who was particularly gifted in healing. She tells her about the time she almost disowned her, not quite understanding why her daughter would want to live the very life she had turned her back on instead of following in her footsteps and becoming a surgeon.

"Med school just wasn't for me," Clarke told him one afternoon. "I barely made it through my bachelor's degree. I much prefer being here, practicing with my coven, and helping people this way."

He, in turn, tells her what it was like growing up with an absentee father and a mother who worked herself to the bone. She learns about his passion for writing, and how he felt he couldn't pursue it because it had never seemed like a realistic career for him until he met Kane. He tells her about the car accident that took her mother and how he was the sole parental figure for the majority of Octavia's life. The two bond over having lost a parent so young and Clarke tells him about how the death of one of the witches in her coven had left her the sole caretaker of her adopted daughter.

They talk and they talk and every new piece of Clarke Griffin that Bellamy learns makes him want to be hers more. He's convinced fate had led him to  _ The Witch's Brew _ , to Clarke, for a reason. It was just a matter of gathering the courage to ask her out.

It all comes to a head about a month later, on a cold, Fall morning not unlike the one on which they first met.

Clarke is ranting about another argument she had with Josie, a rather self-absorbed member of her coven that Clarke has a hard time getting along with, and Bellamy realizes he'd be alright with spending the rest of his life like this, simply being there for Clarke and alleviating her stress. It strikes him, then, how very invested he's become in their relationship—how very badly he wants this to become something more.

"Go out with me," he blurts out, not completely aware of what he was saying until the words left his mouth.

Clarke freezes, mouth agape for a split-second before she clamps it shut.

"I—yeah, okay. Yes." She nods, face splitting into a blinding grin. "I thought you'd never ask."

Bellamy's vaguely aware of the cat leaping off the table but pays her no mind.

"I wasn't sure you'd say yes," he admits. "I'm only human, after all."

"You're my favorite human," she assures him, scooting over to his side of the booth.

"You're my favorite witch," he admits, pulling her closer to him, "not that I know many witches. But you'd be my favorite even if I did."

Clarke laughs, "You're a dork, Bellamy Blake."

"You love it," he murmurs, leaning down to press his lips to hers.

The kiss makes his entire world light up, Clarke's soft lips pressed against his own eliciting a shudder down the length of his spine, warmth spreading through the entirety of his system. He pulls her impossibly closer, wanting nothing more than to deepen the kiss when Madi lets out a yelp.

Clarke pulls away from him with a sigh.

"I think someone wants a proper introduction," Clarke says, nudging him to turn and face Madi's direction.

He turns around just in time to hear a strange whooshing sound, watching incredulously as Madi grows taller and taller, feline features morphing into human ones.

"It's about damn time," the girl says once the transformation is complete, sliding into the booth across from the pair. "It only took you guys like, a century to get together."

Clarke rolls her eyes playfully at Madi while Bellamy sits there, somewhat in shock.

"You—how—you were just a cat... what?"

Madi giggles.

"It's nice to finally, officially meet you, Bellamy. I'm Madi Griffin, Clarke's daughter," she extends an arm for him to shake.

He takes it wordlessly, offering her a small smile as he tries to wrap his mind around exactly what he's gotten himself into.

"Sorry, Bell," Clarke squeezes his arm, "she wanted to be the one to tell you herself once she got to know you a little bit."

"It's fine," he assures her, "I should've seen this coming. You  _ are _ witches, after all."

Madi nods appreciatively, "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

The three settle into a comfortable silence, Madi pulling out her phone while Clarke sinks further into Bellamy's side. He's never been able to picture his future more clearly than he does now, and he's got to say, he's never been happier about how it turns out.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! Be sure to leave me a comment with your thoughts! Or come find me on [ Tumblr ](https://venetum.tumblr.com/) or [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/venetumx).


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